The words bloom like Spring flowers and pullulate as falling leaves in Autumn. Fresh invigorate swirls of the pen delight the pages with imagery, symbolism, theater, and emotion that pulsates with the passion of an estranged lover's heart. Love is where it comes from. A love that defies words and entertains madness.
I enjoy writing to Mozart's Requiem Mass and the Kyrie with an energy and beauty that on occasion has moved me to tears. And upon it's completion I lay upon the bed as if in a post coital perplexity. By the end of the chef-d'oeuvre I'm in curious shape. To put into words the sounds that reach into the depths of me I cannot. To put into words the sentiment, and fervor, joy, anguish, humor, and love the ignis fatuus, I cannot, but only be amazed each and every time.